Undercover Clarinet
by Muffinzelda
Summary: Laura Hobson. Clarinet. Sagittarius. Favourite colour blue. Smokin' hot spy. A retelling of Dark Matter from Hobson's POV, including additional scenes and an alternate ending.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is for fan purposes only. The plot and characters belong to their respective owners (not me!) and are used here without permission.

Author Notes: 1) the thumbnail of Botticelli's Birth of Venus will come into play in the fifth and final chapter of this tale. 2) I have always loved Dark Matter because the episode writer, Stephen Churchett, portrays Laura Hobson at her sassiest- just the way we first met her in 1995. Indeed, Morse's legacy will also resurface in the final chapter...

_Morse: I'm sorry, madam. __The gardens are __closed__. (…)_

_Hobson: I'm not here for __the bouncy __castle__._

_-The Way Through the Woods_

* * *

Dr Laura Hobson didn't like it when anyone stood in her way and didn't hesitate to let them know it. Inspector Morse found that out early on, as would a porter named Roger Temple. The pathologist who came to Oxford long ago looking for Inspector Mouse clearly hadn't lost any of her sass years later when she blew past Mr. Temple with a clarinet case in hand.

"Whoa!" Temple cried. "Name?"

"Hobson."

The porter of Gresham College continued to badger her in a patronizing tone as he consulted his list. Hobson wasn't going to take that attitude without giving it back. She fixed Temple in the eye; it was her turn in their verbal joust. "Clarinet. Sagittarius. Favourite colour blue." She may as well have added "femme fatale" with that smoky seductive tone. But she wasn't flirting; she was letting Temple know that she was not to be trifled with. She walked away rolling her eyes and thinking to herself, _honestly, a security clearance for a community orchestra rehearsal? What a puffed up porter! _Working as a forensic pathologist, Hobson knew that danger could lurk anywhere, of course, but she also knew that said danger was much more likely to come from within Temple's own college than to wander in off the street.

Indeed, the very next day, Dr Hobson had to trade her clarinet case for a forensics bag when she attended the corpse of the Master of Gresham College, Andrew Crompton. He'd fallen from a platform at the observatory- possibly innocent enough- but there were also signs of a struggle. One of Crompton's colleagues- a senior lecturer in Astrophysics, Lady Gwen Raeburn, was married to the composer Sir Arnold Raeburn, who conducted her orchestra. Inspector Lewis and Sergeant Hathaway detected a tangled web between the Cromptons, the Raeburns, and Sir Arnold's former protégé: star conductor Malcolm Finniston, who was slated to lead Hobson's orchestra at their upcoming concert.

When she wasn't at work (all scrubs and scene suits), Laura Hobson enjoyed dressing up. For today's rehearsal, she wore a v-neck dress in a green and white floral print that clung handsomely to her figure. Hobson knew that there was a possibility she'd run into Lewis and Hathaway as they investigated around Gresham College, and she wondered- if she saw Robbie Lewis at all- would he even notice the dress, or would she remain as chaste as Aker Bilk to him? Lewis, knowing that Hobson was involved in the community orchestra, indeed saw something more in Hobson than a mere pathologist. But not quite what she was hoping for…

"What do you take me for, undercover clarinet?" Any other officer she would have told to get stuffed when Lewis asked her to monitor Finniston and the Raeburns for him. "I'm too busy getting notes in the right order to spy for you." But the truth was that Hobson would do anything for Lewis, although she didn't want him to know that. She also wondered how far he was willing to go for her in return.

If she made Lewis buy two tickets to her concert, would he bring a date? Another woman, perhaps? There was only one way to find out. She'd have to be sure that Hathaway also bought tickets so that Lewis would be forced to look beyond his long-faced sergeant. (And Hathaway could use a little nudge into action too, she decided.) As the obliging gentlemen forked over one-hundred-some-odd quid, she shook her head at them. That was too easy; maybe Lewis would do anything for her after all.

But that was a hypothesis to continue testing another day. For now, Hobson needed to figure out how she would hold up her end of the bargain.


	2. Chapter 2

At that afternoon's rehearsal, Laura Hobson heard a beeping- not the A440 of a tuning device's standard pitch, but a cell phone indicating an SMS. Hobson noticed the maestro Malcolm Finniston seriously studying his phone with a mortified expression. She looked at her watch and made a mental note of the time; perhaps Lewis could subpoena his phone records if it became important. Tellingly, Finniston's mood changed following the SMS. He seemed cheesed off with the entire orchestra, then snapped at Sir Arnold when he tried to defend the ensemble. After the rehearsal, Hobson observed Finniston disingenuously apologizing to Sir Arnold, then chasing Lady Raeburn out of the room and onto the quad. Hobson decided to follow them out.

Malcolm Finniston and Lady Raeburn were huddled together in the archway, looking intently at something on the maestro's phone. As Hobson approached discreetly and swiftly walked past, she noted that whatever it was that held their rapt attention, it was certainly not kitten videos on YouTube…

It was shortly thereafter that gunshots rang out over the quad.

* * *

When everyone else scurried for cover at the sound of gun fire, Laura Hobson hurtled towards it. Moments later she was cradling Dr. Ella Ransome- a local GP- in her arms, whispering words of reassurance to the victim and yelling for an ambulance though she knew it was already too late. It was a new sensation for her- for as comfortable as she was with corpses, they were not usually still pulsing when she first attended them.

Of course, Inspector Lewis would be one of the first on the scene. After the police had completed their cursory sweep of the area, Lewis pulled Hobson aside into a darkened alcove to ask her a few questions alone. Lewis seemed to lean into her, putting his weight on the wrought iron gate that she stood next to. As he asked her for her observations, she was in complete control of her faculties- reporting the time of death as she always did, but her body language told a different story. She'd wrapped her arms tightly around herself, showing him a vulnerability he'd never seen in her before. _Only with you, Robbie. _He noticed her discomfort and said gently, "I'll get you a ride home."

She started to protest, but he cut her off. "I'm not arguing." For a second she believed that he'd read her mind after all... _yes, take me home, Robbie… _until she heard Lewis raise his voice with authority, "John, take Dr Hobson home." A young PC stepped forward to escort her away and she felt ever the fool.

She allowed the PC to accompany her to the car park out of Lewis' sight. "Thank you very much John, but I'm fine, really. I can drive myself home."

"I insist, Dr. Hobson. Inspector Lewis will tan my backside if he finds out I didn't obey his orders." He innocently took her by the arm.

Usually Hobson wouldn't mind the attentions of a chivalrous young man, but today she was not in the mood. Laura pulled her arm back. "If you don't let me go on my own, Inspector Lewis will be the least of your problems." The terrified PC backed off.

* * *

Hobson went home, changed out of her blood-stained dress, and downed a glass of Riesling; the bottle'd been a gift from an ex in Germany. In the chaos of Dr. Ransome's murder, she'd forgotten to tell Lewis about Finniston, Gwen Raeburn, and the curious SMS. She thought of calling the Inspector, but she remembered how Lewis had handed her off to a junior officer and instead poured herself another ample glass of wine.


	3. Chapter 3

After the bottle (yes, bottle, she'd be ashamed to admit) of wine she'd had the night before, Hobson awoke feeling quite groggy. She rolled over and tried to grab her phone off the nightstand, but it tumbled to the floor. Two messages awaited her attention. The most recent was from Arnold Raeburn's secretary, who had informed the musical ensemble that rehearsal and the show itself would go on as scheduled, despite Ella Ransome's death on their campus. Hobson nodded to herself as she liked to keep to as normal a schedule as possible while dealing with such circumstances. Then, she inhaled deeply as she heard the second message, from the night before. She sat back down on the bed and closed her eyes to imagine Robbie Lewis speaking to her.

_Hullo, Laura. I guess you've already got your mobile off for the night. Sorry, I meant to ring earlier- hope you're all right. Do you want to get coffee or drinks sometime tomorrow with me- and James of course- there's a few things I want to run by you. Give us a call when you're up to it. _

She rang him back and arranged to meet Lewis and Hathaway for drinks that afternoon. She had the rehearsal in the morning, and a mountain of work to catch up on in the mortuary afterwards.

* * *

At that morning's rehearsal, Hobson watched as Finniston casually tossed his mobile on a credenza the way he had done the day before. Curiously enough, Gwen and Arnold Raeburn were not present. Something must have transpired between the threesome… Hobson had to find out what that SMS had been about. She knew that it was a fine line between doing her job and tampering with evidence. She sucked on her reed nervously, weighing the options. She realized that even if it was a little devil on her shoulder telling her to snaffle Finniston's mobile for Lewis, the angel on her other shoulder also bore the visage of Lewis… of Robbie. She didn't have a choice really, compelled like a golden retriever to fetch what she could bring back to him.

Her own mobile phone was of a similar model. She fiddled with the charm that she had attached to make it unique. The light on the conductor's podium went out again and Finniston halted in frustration; Hobson saw this as her window of opportunity, so she gave the charm a forceful jerk and snapped it off.

"But I just changed the bulb yesterday for Sir Arnold," exclaimed the bassoon player seated near Hobson.

"Oh Sir Arnold, sabotaging my career one light bulb at a time…" Finniston grumbled.

"What?" the bassoon player asked. Now, Hobson knew for certain that the two men had fallen out.

"Nothing. Must be a loose connection in the wiring then," Finniston balked.

"Damn, I seem to have split my reed," Hobson said to the bassoon player and whoever else might be listening. She got up to go to her clarinet case and swapped her mobile for Finniston's as she went. She looked around the room and pretended to switch reeds behind the cover of her case. As maestro Finniston fiddled with the light- first disassembling then reassembling the lamp to tighten the connection- several bored musicians had taken out their mobiles. It would look perfectly natural if she were to do the same. She opened Finniston's mobile to the received messages function and scrolled down to the previous day's date and time. The message would be easy enough to remember: _Revenge is sweet._ But the number she would need to jot down on a piece of sheet music stuffed in the back of her clarinet case. She did so hurriedly and closed the case. Finniston had the lamp on the conductor's podium working again and was calling everyone back to attention. Behind her back, she switched the mobiles back, and no one was any the wiser.

* * *

"Genius," remarked James Hathaway as Hobson explained her daring feat of espionage later on over drinks.

"Seconded," agreed Robbie.

_Is that all you can say, Robbie? _ She'd rather hoped he'd be more effusive in his thanks, but how could she be upset with this steady man who was content to sip his orange juice while his sergeant downed a more potent potable?

* * *

Author Note: I had to create an additional rehearsal because the timeline for Laura seeing Gwen and Malcolm colluding over the text, snatching the phone, and then reporting the information to Lewis didn't make sense otherwise. Anyway, the next chapter contains a plot twist that differs from the episode entirely, so today's installment is the least of the purist's worries!


	4. Chapter 4

Despite months of careful rehearsal, the night of the concert did not go as planned. First, Malcolm Finniston had suddenly announced that he would be leaving and that Arnold Raeburn would be conducting in his stead. (Hobson would later learn from Lewis that the SMS had been a failed blackmail attempt by her nemesis the porter Roger Temple to extort money from Finniston when he learned that Finniston and Lady Raeburn had had an affair… But all of that was just one more red herring on the path to catching the real killer of Andrew Crompton and Ella Ransome.)

The musicians wore black de rigueur to the concert, but Hobson wasn't the sort to go for a modest blouse and trouser combination. She donned a dress with halter straps and what would be a square neckline if it weren't for a little divot that accentuated her bosom. As the musicians took their places under the tent, she scanned the audience for Lewis, Hathaway, and their potential dates like an adolescent scanning the crowd for her parents at a school recital. She couldn't help but feel disappointed when she didn't see them.

It wasn't until after the concert started- very nearly intermission- that the pair of detectives arrived on the scene late and alone. _This doesn't bode well, _she thought as she struggled to focus on the music_. _From the corner of her eye, she could make out Lewis and Hathaway trying to corral an inebriated Malcolm Finniston. Then, Lewis and Hathaway departed again, seeming to chase the bassoon player's ex-boyfriend. She would have cringed in dismay for she should have known it was too much to ask for Lewis and Hathaway to sit down and enjoy a concert- but she didn't dare loosen her embouchure around her mouthpiece.

At intermission, however, as musicians mingled, she capped her mouthpiece, laid down the clarinet and decided to go investigate with them. Things must have taken a serious turn because she saw Chief Superintendent Innocent herself lurking across the quad near a cleaner's cart and calling for back up. As Innocent left to go meet a squad car, Hobson made her way to the cart and wondered why it was of interest. On the outside was written BABS and as she winnowed through its contents, Laura discovered a rifle. It dawned on her that there was a shooting club in the lower level.

She kicked off her heels so as not to make a sound as she slipped down the stairs, with the borrowed rifle aimed straight ahead of her. Meanwhile, Robbie Lewis was eliciting the confession of Babs the scout for the double murder; as it happened, she was the wife of the porter Roger Temple. Lewis had solved the case, but things are never that simple; Babs held another rifle and was waving it between Lewis and Hathaway. "Time to go, eh?" Lewis said as he made a move towards Babs to coax her into handing over the rifle, but she made a move of her own.

"I've had enough." Babs Temple was stronger than she looked and was tired of people underestimating her. No one would believe that the homely cleaner had been having an affair with the polished Master Andrew Crompton who was leaving her- no one but Ella Ransome, who had discovered their secret! Furthermore, no one would expect that Babs could so swiftly ensnare a man as solid as Robbie Lewis. But suddenly, there she was, and the seemingly simple Babs had Lewis with her gun to his neck.

"Sir!" Hathaway cried out as he lurched forward. Babs went for the trigger.

A gunshot rang out. Hobson saw each moment unfold in slow motion. Lewis and Babs both fell to the ground. The pathologist's eyes were immediately drawn to Lewis' chest- heaving up and down with life. It was only then that she herself drew a tentative breath and turned her gaze to Babs, who was not so lucky. If it hadn't been for the kickback she felt from discharging the weapon, Hobson would have been immobilized. In truth, she hadn't even known if the rifle was loaded before she shot. Though Hobson had to steady herself, she stood stunned with her rifle still poised as Hathaway ran over to Lewis.

"Sir, are you…"

"All right? Yeah."

Hathaway turned his attention to Babs and rang for help on his mobile. Just as he was pronouncing that there was no sign of life, Lewis- still on the ground- realized what was happening. "James, where's the gun? The gun that shot Babs? Not the one she was holding to me head."

Both detectives looked frantically into the shadows and beheld the silhouette of a petite woman in a black dress, rifle still in hand.

"Dr Hobson?" Hathaway went to her and held out his arms. She placed the gun into his care. "You did this?"

"She was going to hurt Robbie." Hobson uttered simply, but definitively.

"Laura?" Lewis knew her voice, though Hobson was still ensconced in the shadows.

"Innocent is on her way down; you'll have to make a full statement." Hathaway said to Hobson, but she seemed not to hear him. She went over to Lewis and knelt beside him; Lewis couldn't believe she was there, bending towards him, the black dress hinting at parts of her he dared not consider.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" She asked, still dazed. She instinctively put two fingers on his neck to take his pulse, though all evidence indicated that he had not been touched. Hobson's fingers tingled with relief to feel the frantic beat of his veins.

"I'm all right, love." He sat up, and the two stared at one another, not knowing what to say or do.

Finally, Lewis spoke. "This is all me fault."

_Oh Robbie the Responsible one, how many things do you blame yourself for? _ "No, Robbie. During intermission, I followed you- saw you across the quad looking at the scout's cart. Inside was another rifle. She was going to hurt you, and I wasn't going to let that happen."

"I never should have asked you to get involved, spying on Finniston like that. You could have been killed." Robbie said.

Hobson snorted in response. "You're a fine one to talk with that gun pointed to your head." She then muttered under her breath, "besides, better me than you."

"Don't say that."

"You have kids, Robbie. A family who loves you."

"And you have…" he trailed off realizing that there was a reason that Hobson was all business.

"…corpses?" She supplied, somewhat awkwardly. He cringed in response. "Don't look at me like that, Robbie. I have no regrets."

Jean Innocent came down into the basement with back up at that moment and surveyed the situation: Babs bleeding out, Lewis and Hobson sitting awkwardly on the ground. She turned to Hathaway who was the only one on his feet. "Well?"

"Mrs. Temple's dead, ma'am." He answered.

"And that is the smoking gun, I presume?" She asked, nodding towards the weapon that Hathaway was holding barrel down.

"Hobson…" Hathaway's voice shook, and Innocent raised her eyebrows in surprise. He cleared his throat. "Dr. Hobson discharged the weapon when Mrs. Temple had threatened Inspector Lewis at gunpoint."

"It's true." Hobson said flatly.

"Ma'am," Lewis began, "can I take Dr Hobson up for some fresh air before we do all this? Then you can get a full statement."

Innocent looked perplexed for a moment and glanced at Hathaway. "Robbie will get her sorted." Hathaway offered quietly.

"That's what I'm afraid of. Leave her to me, Lewis." She offered Hobson her hand to pull her to her feet. With a final long gaze at Lewis, Hobson rose quietly and followed Innocent. Likewise, Hathaway tendered his hand to Lewis.

* * *

Internal Affairs had their hands full with the three- Lewis, Hathaway, and Hobson- but when interrogated separately, their statements all matched. Nevertheless, Hobson was placed on leave indefinitely, pending the results of an official inquiry and the psych evaluation she was forced to undergo.

One of the many questions she was forced to answer was, "what are your feelings for DI Lewis?"

_It's complicated,_ she thought. "He's a loyal friend."

"Nothing more?"

Hobson put on her poker face, inscrutable to the psychiatrist. "Nothing more. He will never be able to move on from his wife's death, and I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship."

She had repeated that line to herself so many times that she almost believed it. Be that as it may, she'd proven that there is nothing she wouldn't do for Robbie Lewis. Even take another life.

* * *

Author Note: One more chapter to go, as we need know how the erstwhile Undercover Cricket Player will respond to the daring deeds of Undercover Clarinet.


	5. Chapter 5

Internal Affairs determined that Lewis and Hathaway had indeed caught the murderer of Andrew Crompton and Ella Ransome but then had become ensnared in a confrontation with her. Internal Affairs further concluded that Dr Hobson had, indeed, acted as a last resort in defence of a police officer.

Laura Hobson may have been the one who was ordered to see a counsellor, but Robbie Lewis was the one who found himself obsessing, losing more and more sleep over the turn of events: Hobson spying for him, Hobson killing for him, Hobson and her corpses, Hobson alone… Laura Hobson. Laura. Had he found someone who understood his loneliness? He had always thought that she was impervious to the despair of solitude. She had a house full of friends turn up for her birthday, she played bridge, she played in the community orchestra. Was that a façade for the loneliness? Maybe she needed him as much as he needed her. And he had not said so much as thank you for saving his life. He didn't know what to do, but he knew that she deserved much more than a casual dinner and pints.

* * *

Several weeks later, an envelope addressed to Detective Sergeant Lewis, Thames Valley CID made its way to his desk. The now-veteran Inspector grinned to himself, thinking it must be a bit of a time capsule. He even recognized the name on the return address: Joyce Garrett, Morse's half-sister.

_Dear Sergeant Lewis,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I'm sorry we've lost touch since my brother died; I know that you and your wife were like a family to him. He loved the opera as you well know, and part of his legacy was a generous endowment to Glyndebourne with the provision that I receive two tickets each season. My husband has taken ill and we won't be able to make it this year. I've taken the liberty of transferring the tickets to your name in the hopes that you will be able to use them. _

_Best, Joyce Garrett_

Enclosed was a printout of the details for the event, but Lewis didn't want to look at the online transaction; he wanted to stay in his bubble of days gone by, days he'd shared with Morse and his sainted wife. Morse had given him and Val tickets to the Magic Flute once upon a time- but neither one of them got much out of it; he couldn't understand a word and Val had grumbled at missing EastEnders. Oh Val, she just wanted to see Cats after all. Lewis did eventually take Val to see Cats, but all those actors prancing around in face-paint and fur with pinned-on tails? He wasn't sure he quite understood that one either. Maybe he was more of an opera man after all.

Finally looking at the details from the online printout, he began to consider a trip to Glyndebourne. But whom would he invite to use the second ticket? He'd had to ask the Chief Super to attend Hobson's concert… Laura! She was the one foisting two concert tickets on him earlier, after all. Would she wear the same black dress she'd worn the fateful night of the concert? Lewis surprised himself to find the idea of Hobson's black dress still so alluring.

* * *

Lewis tried to present Hobson the idea as suavely as he could the next time he found himself in her office, though not without rehearsing his words several times beforehand. Her blue eyes sparkled more brightly than he'd ever seen them. "The Faerie Queene at Glyndebourne? I'd love it!" Then her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head a bit. "That's a fair distance, and the show will let out quite late. Am I to assume that we're overnighting?"

"Erm… I, oh…" Lewis, who didn't break a sweat when Babs Temple had held a gun to his head, was suddenly terrified.

Hobson noted his total paralysis and said, "you got the tickets, why don't you let me handle the accommodations?"

Lewis blinked and nodded but still didn't know what to say. Sure, he'd been imagining himself escorting Hobson on his arm with her wearing that delightful black dress, but staying the night? Together? Now a new and irrepressible thought invaded his mind: the possibility of seeing Laura Hobson _without_ her black dress. _Oh no__,__steady yourself,__ lad. _He tried as hard as he could to conjure up images from Cats- humans dressed as felines singing Memory. He awkwardly excused himself from Dr. Hobson's office.

Back at his own office, he brewed a cuppa to relax. Hathaway was playing a CD of Holst's Planets that he had acquired after their recent case. A new melody replaced Lewis' mental chorus of anthropomorphic felines, and Lewis began to hum along. "I didn't know you liked _Venus, the Bringer of Peace_ so much sir." Hathaway observed snarkily as Lewis intoned slightly off key.

"Ah, is that what it is?" He thought again of Laura Hobson. How many times had she listened to his troubles and brought him peace? He told himself he was silly for getting so worked up about a weekend with his friend. _We're just friends, right? No need to be a nervous nelly, unless... _

"Indeed, sir. Venus, the love goddess," chimed in Hathaway, bringing Lewis back to reality.

"Ah." Too late, Lewis had made the association between Hobson and Venus, and he couldn't undo it now. "Erm, so she's the one on the clamshell?" Lewis tried to ask nonchalantly, but was scratching at his ear.

"That would be Botticelli's work, sir."

"Right," said Lewis as he cleared his throat.

Hathaway noticed Lewis' ear scratching and throat-clearing and shook his head. He wondered if one of his responsibilities as sergeant was to get Lewis a copy of _Loaded_ since his mind clearly couldn't even handle the idea of a perfectly innocent nude by Botticelli.

That afternoon, Lewis peered out his office window and noticed Dr Hobson walking across the parking lot. _The transit of Venus,_ he chuckled to himself, thinking of their recent case- and, bizarrely enough- of Laura modestly covering herself on a clamshell.

Lewis tried to distract himself by looking at his watch. It was 3:15 and he felt an excess of joy.


End file.
